


Midvale

by Lenaluthorshrugged



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/F, Lena Luthor-centric, POV Lena Luthor, SuperCorp, some light smut already
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 14:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14750229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenaluthorshrugged/pseuds/Lenaluthorshrugged
Summary: This is definitely illegal. So, so very illegal....





	Midvale

**Author's Note:**

> Very first fic, testing some waters. I have a few chapters written but I'm flying by the seat of my pants. Come fly with me!

_December 31 st _

 

This is definitely illegal. So, so very illegal.

 

You muster to find a hint of conscience but come up empty.

 

Yet...

 

Giant, wooden crates stack ominously in front of you, their contents causing the most unsettling of creaks from the board and nail they are made of.  You draw in and then blow out, another billow of smoke; allowing it slowly to cascade from your lips and then furl into your nostrils and back out again. The cherry of your cigarette burns precariously close to your pale knuckles as you try to suss out what you’re feeling in this moment. You’ve never been good at…feelings. So, unlike most tasks, it takes a considerable amount of time for you to wrap your mind around the particular subject.

 

You decide to use an old method from your college days, something to help you sift through all the emotional clutter.

 

Analysis One: Accomplishment?

 

Surely, that’s a given. You’ve worked hard up to this moment and have done what most can’t. Lex, your brother, was an asshole. But picking you for this task was the best decision he’s made for the company in all the year’s he’s been running it.

 

Analysis Two: Boredom?

 

Now that you’ve come to the end of this, it’ll only be a matter of time before it all starts over again. You’ll be right back here, maybe not here, here of course; but you’ll be back in some form of this moment. You know it, it always ends like this. Well, not entirely like this. You’re usually gone by now and on your way to a private jet back to Metropolis, vintage bottle of red for the trip already in mind. But there’s something else, something bubbling beneath the surface that you cannot place and it’s almost gnawing.

 

You close your eyes, searching for it. The mechanical creaking from the machinery fading to a dull hum. The sounds of hard leather work boots shuffling from all around you go next, the ring of quiet slowly filling your ears. Bit by bit it all falls away, seeping free from your consciousness.  Then you pause; the sound of an irritated groan breaking through.

 

“It’s not rocket science boys, this is pre-school shit. A bunch of five years olds could do a better job. Let’s move it!”

 

Analysis Three: Loneliness?

 

You’re surprised Veronica actually came. After everything that was said, everything not said; she still showed up to oversee as she always does. Part of you wants to think it’s because she’s truly that fond of you, another part suspects it’s your brother’s way of making sure you don’t fuck it up. He believes her a weakness, one that you can’t resist molding to the demands of and figures she’ll inveigle you into staying on task.

 

Your once well-manicured fingers, now riddled with cracked varnish and spots, rub against one another. The dull clacking getting louder and louder, echoing harshly against your ear drums until-

 

“Lena.”

 

You look up at the sound of your name, freeing your bottom lip from the worrying of your teeth that you failed to notice you were even doing. Speak of the devil. She’s glaring at you with eyes that are a storm of burnt sienna, fresh honey, and clear impatience.

 

“Lena…” She says your name with more force this time, taking your lack of answer as disinterest. It isn’t until a tattooed hand reaches out and grasps your wrist; do you finally acknowledge her, a slight nod of your head for her to continue.

 

“It’s all accounted for, just needs your sign off.” She sighs, exasperated, and shoves the tablet into your hand. You observe her figure, the way she walks fluidly around the box’s and barks orders at Lex’s men as they load the final stacks onto a mini forklift.

 

Analysis Four: Desire?

 

You swallow thickly at that thought. You’ve had your moments together, nothing to complain about really. V is a good, angry fuck and it’s always been that way; but it’s never been something you couldn’t do without. Never before had emotional attachment played a part of your dynamic, so you’re weary to think that it’s this exact moment your feelings have escalated from casual lay to love of your life.

 

No, definitely not desire. Not for present company anyway.

 

The cursor on the dotted line blinks mockingly at you from the screen as you freeze. Suddenly, a deep twinge of realization dawns on you. The cherry from the cigarette finally meeting your skin and the pain of it is sharp and quick, like lightening. It takes every part of you to close your throat to keep from gasping. It’s a feeling you’ve worked hard to suppress. Years of pushing it down into the depths of your gut that now, you’re pretty sure, has become a cancerous ball of repression.

 

Slowly, you draw the first loop of your initial as the feeling grows stronger and stronger.

 

Regret.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_3 Months earlier, September 30 th_

 

“So, what do you do?”

 

What a loaded question.

 

Why does everyone ask that? As if what you do for a living could be simply summed up as a “9-5.” You can’t really fault the poor girl; how could you expect someone from the normal world to understand what you do? Well, there was a simple way of putting it, sort of, but you could bet that it would be a deal breaker for any normal person.

_“Oh, I push alien commodities through different export channels to ensure customs doesn’t confiscate or enforce tax’s on said goods. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m breaking at least fifty international and intergalactic trading laws. You know the American dream.”_

Yeah, definitely not a deal breaker.

It’s your own fault for listening to Veronica in the first place.

_“Broaden your horizons ‘Lee, maybe venture out that stuffy old office and see the sun occasionally. I swear you’re getting paler… if that were even possible.”_

It takes all of you to keep from sighing out loud. This date is a disaster; conversation as dry as the chicken marsala you’d been pushing around your plate for the last half hour. She was one of Veronica’s colleagues from work, from some department that had a really long name and an an obscure job title. She does have nice legs, at least from what you’ve seen so far. The thought of them draped over your shoulders or wrapped around your head, you could not deny, was the true motivation to put at least some effort into the date. So, you lament and try to muster a genuine smile as you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

“Um, well actually I work for a non-profit of sorts. Uh, keeping the books and all that.”

Her brow rises as her eyes dart from your face to the lapels of your Ralph Lauren business suit and then back again. You offer a lame shrug and half smile before cutting into the subpar meal in front of you; resigning to the fact that this date is a dud and to eat as quickly as possible.

Veronica is an idiot, this you’ve decided. You’re being bitter; you know, but this is the most ridiculous guidance she’s given lately. Figures, a woman living in single bliss is shite at dating advice.

Your waiter comes with the check and you can see your date move uncomfortably at the sight of him. He’s clearly an alien, from the Alora system if you were to wager, the gills on his neck make that clear. Your job made it a necessity to know these sorts of things and you were always a quick study. You smile and take the check, if not to be chivalrous, then to make sure he was given a nice tip. It’s hard to believe that people in this day and age still looked at aliens as second-class citizens. Your date seemed to be no exception.

The two of you part ways with awkward goodbye’s and call you sometimes.

You at least know you won’t.

As soon as your foot hits the carpet of your Jet-Black Mercedes, you grumble to the driver the address for the Sinclair abode. Soon, you’re in front of a pair of sleek white doors that open, greeted by the match maker herself, cheeky grin already in place. She has on a rose gold and silk robe, her hair in a messy bun with wisps that hang in ringlets against striking cheekbones. That robe, it fits her well. Right above the knee and it hugs her body in all the right places that it’s enough to know she most likely has nothing on underneath.

“Well that was a quickie.” She quips, unreasonably pleased with herself.

“It was nothing of the sort. Where’d you put the Glenfiddich from last month’s acquisition party?” You ask, briskly pushing past her and effectively wiping the sodding smirk off her face. She seems to pause for a moment before shutting the doors and casually following behind you, eyes following your path from corner to corner of her overly priced and underused kitchen.

If she means to stop you, she’ll be too late. You’re annoyed at her and determined that she remedy it and it’s going to take something strong. You let out a satisfied hum when you’ve found your prize. The amber liquid swishes back and forth slowly, like melted honey.

A siren call to your severely foul mood.

Veronica gives a disapproving glare, one that chastises for taking such a quality vintage straight from the bottle. You pause, the tip of the bottle rubbing against your ruby red lips, before finally relenting and grabbing a tumbler from the adjacent cupboard. She watches, still silent with arms folded and lets you swig two back before grabbing the bottle and holding it out of arms reach. Her other hand quickly grips your jacket as you surge forward in a half assed attempt to grab at the sweet libation.

“All right, what happened? You’re hitting the sauce and you’re back before nine.”

You offer a shrug before removing her hand and reaching behind the corner of the breadbox. After few seconds, you pull a dusty bottle of Macallan out; resuming your all be it childish, but well warranted; slosh party for one. She gives you another disparaging glare to which you keep eye contact, downing a third tumbler of liquor in the span of five minutes.

“What? I’ve known you for years, I know all the hiding spots. Anyway; I don’t know, there just wasn’t any chemistry. She was… unremarkable.” You confess, only barely managing to stutter the last part out.

Ever the friend, she rolls her eyes and grabs the bottle out of your hand before you can react. She smirks devilishly at her accomplishment before pouring some in your glass and taking it for herself.

“Lena, you always do this. _‘They’re too obsessed with my accomplishments’_ , _‘they’re not cultured enough’_ , _‘they were too boring.’_ You can’t just pick apart every girl you go out with and find the flaws within the first five seconds of meeting them. God, give the poor birds a chance.”

To this, you let an un-lady like scoff escape your lips before fixing Veronica with a knowing glare.

“Oh please, don’t give me that. You of all people know how difficult dating in our world can be. Besides, you were obsessed with me the first time you saw me, admit it.”

A fond smile spreads across your friend’s lips before answering.

“I was also fifteen and spiraling from the fact that most of the girls in our dorm were already wise to me. You were fresh blood darling, something new to play with. It was awe at first and later well… you know how hormones are-“

You cut of her off abruptly before she went any further.

“Okay, yes. I was pathetic and starry-eyed, please don’t. I already shudder when I think back to those days.”

She side saddles up to you then, eyes dangerously dark and almost villainous as she runs a well-manicured, filed to a rounded point, fingernail up the buttons of your dress shirt.  As if on command your body molds to her touch. Hands gripping the edge of the marble island as she circles to face you and you find yourself leaning back. Brown eyes, dilated to chocolate slivers meet yours and you feel a pang of shame run through you at the power she still has over you.

“Well, from what I recall you were a wonderful student, very fast learner. In fact, I don’t think it was too long before those shaky hands were steady and doing the most delicious things to me almost every day after 4th period.”  She whispers against your ear, voice turning to liquid silk and sending your blood rushing down your body to the place between your thighs.

You had a thing for dirty talk, it wasn’t a secret between the two of you. There were a lot of things Veronica Sinclair was good at, and this proved to be no different.

It never failed with you.

It was a precarious thing, your friendship; it teetered between lines of frenemy and lover. Though you didn’t do this as often as you used to since you’ve been out of the country for the last year, tied up in your work; it seemed to become more frequent now that you were back in town.

“If you’re trying what I think you’re trying, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that.” You challenge, fixing her with defying glare and raised eyebrow. Not that she had to do much, you knew as soon as you stepped into your car that this was where you’d end up and what your intention was. You had sent your driver away the moment he stopped in front of the Brownstone apartment.

Still, you loved the game and she loved to play it.

She chuckles with a husky vibrato as she presses herself against you then, taking your challenge full on.

“Aw, poor trust fund baby.” She coo’s, brushing her lips against yours just barely so it’s not enough.

“You came here so I could lick your wounds? Sew up that pride? Darling, if that’s all, then you know all you have to do is ask.” She breathes, guiding your hands around her waist as she grinds her hips purposely against your own.

Fuck, she was good, you could at least give her that. Still, you felt that familiar pang of power rise into your chest as you flexed your jaw and regarded her defiantly.

“You should know by now V…” You murmur, running your hands along her thighs till they reach slim, tan wrists.

“A Luthor never asks.”

It’s practically growled before you twist her around, pushing her front against the pristine marble of the kitchen island and hovering over her. Red lips brushing against her ear and down to the place between her neck and shoulder that you know make her shiver every time.

“Then just take it.” She groans out and that’s all the consent you need before your hand grips the back of her robe and force’s it down past her shoulders. Her back arches as you leave a trail of Rouge Dior and bite marks down her spine, all the while thinking how perfect they look against her tattoo’s.

By the time she orgasms, you’ve made a firm decision to have V keep a strap-on at her place. While pushing her straight from one orgasm to the next, you can’t help but think if your hands were free; how much better it would be to feel her hair gripped in your hand while your other left red marks against the tan skin of her ass. So, you make the mental note and stow it away for later, focusing on the task at hand.

There was something about dismantling her that had you coming back time and time again. The high pitch she would whine your name in, the way her lips searched for yours from over her shoulder; only to pull away, her nature for defiance still testing your resolve as you take her fiercely from behind with three fingers.

You get lost in the cacophony of her moans and stuttered gasps, taking what you need and giving back in return, but only when she begs you.

You had a bad date and a dreadful day really. But a belly full of expensive whiskey and a good fuck isn’t the worst way to end a Friday night.

* * *

 

 

_September 31 st _

He’s been smirking at you for almost a minute now. Just sitting there, in his overpriced suit and over ergonomic chair; smirking at you while he rocks back and forth.

You know Lex and you know that smirk. It’s foreboding. A foreshadowing of something unpleasant that has yet to come, but it’s too late to get away now because you’re in it. You were in, whatever it was, as soon as you entered the door.

“How are things?” He says, at least trying to turn his smile into something more genuine; brotherly, like he actually cares how things are for you.

“Oh, you know, however things can be when settling back in.” You play along for now but know better than give more detail than that.

“Not too stressful I hope?” He says, even leaning in as if to convey concern.

“No, it’s always an adjustment coming back, but I’ve learned to adapt.” He’s trying to goad you into confiding with him. To pick apart a weakness or vulnerability you may accidentally let slip, but you know better, you’ve known better for years now.

“That’s good, I do worry about you Lee. You have a tendency to burry yourself in work; to let things…fester.” He says, giving a knowing look before continuing.

“I don’t want to overload you if you’re feeling like you’ve taken on too much.” He says, finally leaning back, elbows resting against his glass desk. The reflection of the city skyline is projected onto it, via the floor to ceiling windows behind him, and you find it amusing that he tries to have an aesthetic of complete transparency.

God, you hated that new age business bullshit.

He’s regarding you carefully and you find it curious. It’s not legitimate concern, far from it in fact. But there is _something_ there, like he’s actually testing your mood.

“I’m a big girl Lex, the big city doesn’t scare me and neither do my responsibilities. Do you have the Quarter earnings, or do I need to have Harold in accounting go fetch them?”

You had no patience for small talk and fake niceties… Also, a sushi reservation in an hour with Veronica that you didn’t care to miss.

Lex chuckle’s, running the edge of his tongue across his bottom teeth before standing. Slowly, he moves around his desk to stand over you, hands in his fitted suit pockets as he smiles down upon you. It was a power move, one you had perfected.

This tit for tat wasn’t new for the two of you. You had been close once, as children, but that was a long time and too many broken promises ago. When your father died, Lex changed. It was almost cliché, the drama of his rebellious stage to him taking over Luthor Corp. Your mother had been ecstatic when he had asked to take over as CEO, almost sighing in relief with the fact that she didn’t have to groom you for the role. Not that you wanted it anyway.

He had brought you in begrudgingly at the shareholders urging. He set about giving you task after task, ranging from menial to what you were doing now. You suppose once he realized you were actually good at it and seeing the profit that could be made, he relented. Still, from time to time he liked to demonstrate his conceived power over you. It didn’t phase you anymore, but you found it peculiar that he was choosing to do this familiar dance now.

_Interesting._

You simply move your eyes to meet his, brow raised as you give him an expectant look. The standoff only lasts seconds before he moves past you to the cabinet across his office.

“All work and no play, makes my sister a dull girl.” He says, back still to you as he flips through the various files.

“I play, just not during business hours.” You retort, your tone short and clipped. Whatever Lex was up to, you just wished he’d move it along.

“Ah, yes. This I’ve heard, late nights and early mornings at our good friend; Veronica Sinclair’s. How is V? Still slinking around those silk shirts in the bull pens? Earning her stock shares on her back?” Lex quips, pulling the file from the cabinet and throwing it in front of you as he makes his way back to his seat.

“Now, now. You know the frat boys who do too much cocaine and make too much money are her type. You had your time together and she had to move on, no need to be bitter.” You calmly fire back. You ignore his earlier comment, making a mental note to fire your driver as soon as he drops you off at the restaurant. How else would he know what you were up to last night?

Was he acting on his own or at your mother’s request? You weren’t entirely sure. You couldn’t think of a reason Lex would be spying on you other than his suspicions of you and Veronica. Though, something kept leading you away from that, a feeling in your gut groaning that it had to be deeper than that.

Very strong possibility it was at your mother’s request. Not long before you left, she had roped you into a dinner/gala for some organization that celebrated women in the business sector. Long story short, you had overheard some of the more affluent members whispers about Lillian Luthor’s bastard daughter, whom they suspected was either faking or sleeping her way through the corporate finance world.  You had promptly sought to correct them, letting them know in no uncertain terms that you were the real deal and they wouldn’t know the difference between short term liquidity and actual capital investments if it bit them on their collagen filled ass cheeks.

So yes, a very strong possibility your mother had a hand in this as well.

“Oh, I’m not bitter. Besides, it seems those aren’t her only type.” He fix’s you with a knowing gaze before leaning back in his chair, smug and practically preening himself.

Yeah, you’re definitely going to fire your driver. Still, you ignore his comment and open the folder in front of you, scanning the symbols and figures. These were to be the final projections of Luthor Corps 4th Quarter, as predicted there was significant gain, it only needed to be finalized and adjusted, if need be, in the next coming months. You can feel him watching you though as you go through each page, his thumb and forefinger rubbing incessantly together in an ever-vexing cadence. Finally, you look up sharply, your jaw flexing as you try to project some air of patience.

“Lex, is something the matter? You haven’t said anything vile for the past five minutes, I’m concerned.”

He simply shrugs, ignoring your jab as he continues to watch you. Your eyes scan the figures in front of you, calculating and triple checking them only to find they’re correct. The reason for his behavior is lost on you then and growing more and more vexing with each passing second, so much so that you practically bristle in your seat before slamming the manila folder closed and glare back at him.

“All right, what is it? You’ve been acting peculiar ever since I walked in here.”

You raise your hand when he opens his mouth to spew whatever lie had already prepared for the inevitability of you noticing his strange behavior and continue.

“And before you say, ‘it’s nothing’ or try to bring that shit about V back up; I know it’s something and you don’t give a shit about Veronica. You never did, and you wouldn’t let something as trivial as that get to you, so what’s going on Lex? Because I really don’t have the time today.”

He immediately stands and turns his back away from you as he clasps his hands together in front him. You’ve never known your brother to choose words carefully, but he seems to think for a long time before answering.

“You know I have the upmost confidence in you Lee…” He starts, eyes fixed on the city skyline outside of his office windows. Superman’s statue looms in the distance and you watch his hands tense and clench as his gaze fixates on it.

“Get on with it Lex.” You sigh impatiently, in no mood for his dramatics. After a long breath, he seems to lament.

“Well, we’ve diversified and… certain things had to be moved around. I’ve acquired a small start up that I’ll be pushing capitol through till it gets off the ground. I want you to oversee it.”

His tone is far from pride, more calculating than anything else. So, you stay silent, waiting for him to get to heart of the matter.

“This will be big for us, for the company. A new metal that can withstand incredible pressure but as pliant as plastic. Lighter than any alloy found on earth and maybe even beyond that. We’re going to corner the market, sell to highest bidders, so I need you to ensure that it’s allocated correctly once it arrives.”

Your interest is peaked, you could admit that. But you’re far from impressed and decide you’ve indulged him long enough. Fifteen minutes away from sushi and a warm body underneath you, you weren’t going to let your brother’s melodrama get in the way. You make a noncommittal hum before standing and gathering the folder and its contents into your purse.

“Fine, I’ve only just gotten back so I’ll need the weekend to make the necessary adjustments. By Monday I’ll be good, you can send me the pallet count and I’ll contact the usual places to establish a team and foreman for the transport.”

The plan has been memorized and perfected over the last four years. It’s your usual standard and you’ve followed it so many times that you know each stage by heart now. You’ll make a few phones calls on the drive over, get things in place for next week, meet with the foreman to ensure his loyalty and of course discretion with these sorts of tasks, then draw up the itinerary for a feasible time line. All in all, you could be done before Christmas, already having the shipment prepped and ready for your sign off before the end of your final day.  

Lex’s hand around your wrist stops your internal check list and you find the touch unnerving. It used to sooth you, a reminder of safety and love. But, now you can’t help but try to recoil as you regard him with eyebrow raised, a not so kind warning to not touch you on the end of your tongue.

“Ah, ah. You’re not listening little sister, this can’t wait till Monday. I don’t want the usual crew and I don’t want a foreman hired. I want you, you will oversee the entire process; from start to fruition. You leave tonight actually.” He says, finally letting go of you, knowing he has your attention.

“Lex, are you mad? I only just got back from being away for almost a bloody year. I’ve got to finish the paper work for last quarter, not to mention balance the accounts to make sure it doesn’t reflect in one lump sum. I’ve even agreed to attend mothers ridiculous _Women of Business_ brunches for the next 6 Sundays, now that I actually have the time to get her off my back. Aside from all of that and your ridiculous notion that you can just dictate my life, I have plans tonight.”

You find yourself shaking with each word that leaves your lips, the vitriol behind each one increasing the more you continued. You think you might burst when he simply sits there, pleasant smile across his lips as if just waiting for you to finish.

“So, as I said: I will forward you the itinerary on Monday morning and you’ll get a list of the contractors on Luthor Corp’s tab-”

Lex scoffs loudly, his hand held up to signal he was done listening. He regards you for a moment before he pulls a brochure out of his pocket and lays it in front you.

Your eyes skim over the wrinkled pamphlet, its corn flower blue and yellow color scheme making you physically ill as your eyes fixate on the picture of a _Leave it to Beaver_ like family on the front.

“Lena, come now. We’re all adults here and sometimes adults must do what they don’t want to do. I gave you this position because, if I’m being fair, I didn’t think you’d be able to handle it. After all, it is a rather shady job description and up until that point you hadn’t shown that you were particularly devoted to this family. You sought to prove me wrong, that of which you did, rather flourishingly in fact.” He painted the words fluidly, stroking your ego with a soliloquy of flattery and faux humbleness. You had to give it to him, anyone else would have swooned, but you were not so easily broken. You were about to tell him so, but he continued.

“Now, don’t worry about the quarter report or the accounts, I’ve got Harold in accounting remember? Harold’s a company man, a family man, a man who knows how to keep things discreet for his own sake. As for mother, I’ll handle her. I’ll tell her that as soon as you got back, I found a venture that would be beneficial for the company and I needed you to start on it right away, just the simple truth. That should earn you some brownie points and I’ll smooth her over till you get back. Oh, and I’ve canceled your dinner plans with Veronica for tonight.”

He pushes the brochure further up his desk towards you before you can protest, the fire in your eyes flaring as he raises his hand again to quell your inevitable outburst.

“Now, now before you start spitting venom at me, just look at brochure, it’s where you’ll be going. You’ll find there’s a plethora of pleasant things to do and its close enough that V can make visits on the weekends, if you’re so inclined. This is far from exile, yes it’s not Europe, but the town has charm, charm that I think would be good for you.”

Your eyes glare down at the offending piece of paper. Begrudgingly, you flip it open to reveal pictures of lakes, forests and a downtown that’s meant to look impressive, but barely compares to the lights and buzz of Metropolis.

Midvale.

You had driven through it once, on your way back from some conference that you can’t remember the name of. In terms of closeness, about a 6-hour drive from Metropolis, which beat sitting on a plane for hours upon hours like you normally had to.

“You’ve got a two-bedroom craftsman style in Brookside blue waiting for you, already furnished and stocked, I just want you to be comfortable Lee. I know this isn’t ideal, but I don’t trust anyone else to get this done by the end of year and I certainly don’t trust anyone else with this kind of discovery. This is big, a new alloy that’s going to be implemented into a lot of new construction, manufacturing, and health, if I can just get it here.”

The quiet of his office becomes deafening as you glare from the pamphlet to him and then back again. Obviously, this was important to him or he wouldn’t be making such an effort. Still, part of you wanted to rebel, to not let him think he could just make decisions for you and then ask for permission after the fact. You needed to lay out terms, control some aspect of it so that he knew what you were getting something out of this and that you weren’t just simply doing it because he asked.

“I don’t want to be micromanaged, I want a small team when I get there, a list of suitable investment properties and you’re going to double V’s salary on this one.” You laid out smoothly.

“You want me to double, the already generous salary, I give your fuck buddy for a job she only has to do for at the most, five hours?” Lex scoffed, hands tightening against the edges of his desk.

“Yes, and I get to skip next quarter. Harold gets a bonus. Triple the normal amount and added to the company paid health care plan.” You say resolutely, leaving no room for argument.

He actually has the nerve to think it over. Like you were asking something unattainable or unreasonable.

“Fine, but you leave tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> welp... there it is, let me know what you think and I'll post something next week. Thanks for taking the time guys!


End file.
